15 Signs Of Murder (Fifteen thrillers)

by Luis Samways

  “If only that was what the face of danger looked like,” San said as he dug into one of the eyes. “If only the guys we chased every night were as tasty as this!” he continued, forking a mouthful of fried saturates.

  I sat there and watched him for a while. He didn’t notice at first. He was too busy enjoying the breakfast. But I had something on my mind. After a few minutes of me staring at him, he finally cracked.

  “What?” he said abruptly, letting his knife and fork rest on the sides of the plate.

  “It’s nothing,” I said.

  “No, it’s always something with you. Just spit it out, and then we can enjoy this wonderful Christmas Day morning together.”

  I looked down at my food. I was being sucked in by its grease. Imagining myself soaked in the stuff for a second or two. What an odd thought, but hey – I have problems.

  “Come on, man, just spit it out,” I heard San say. I took my attention off the grease on my sausage and looked up at him.

  “It’s just all a little messed up. We shoot the guy. Point blank. Kill shot to the chest,” I began.

  San interrupted me. “Don’t forget about my shot, man! I hit the bastard in the neck,” San said.

  I ignored him and continued. “We shoot the guy dead. And now we don’t know why he did it or if it really was the Machete Man from two years ago. More unanswered questions,” I said, staring back down at my food. “That’s all I need,” I muttered under my breath.

  “We got the guy. That’s all that matters. That, and the fact that all those people made it to the roof. If they didn’t, I’m sure they would all be dead. After all, he did tear through about twenty of them before we stopped him,” San said.

  Somehow, I just couldn’t bring myself to feel relieved. Don’t get me wrong — I was glad that most of the shoppers got to safety on the roof. That wasn’t what I wasn’t relieved about. It’s just the idea that there were stones unturned, answers unanswered – well, you get my drift. It fucking sucked.

  “We can’t always win,” Santiago said softly.

  I didn’t need reminding. I was reminded of that little fact all too often with this job.

  “I’m not asking to win, Santiago. I’m just asking to know. To know why. To know how. To know if this will be the last time I see someone decapitated. To know if someone bigger and badder will come along and make this seem like a pony ride. I just get fed up. Fed up with humanity and what it’s capable of. Fed up with what people do to one another. And for what? For blood? For money? For greed? It’s never those things. It’s never for anything of any value or nobility. Nobody kills for honor anymore. At least then, I’d understand. But I don’t understand anymore. And that, that scares me.”

  I put my fork down and stood up.

  “Where you going?” San asked, looking a little frightened.

  “Home. I’ve had enough talk about death this Christmas. I’m sure there’ll be plenty to talk about in 2015. Until then, I’m going home, getting drunk, and watching bad Christmas movies.”

  He nodded, and I left.

  Let’s just hope that I can take another year of this before I start questioning whether I want to live in this world anymore.

  ***

  Twelve miles uptown:

  “He’s all yours, buddy. Take him away,” the EMT says to the coroner. They both slide the gurney with body bag into the back of the black van. The EMT nods at the coroner. They both turn their backs on each other. A few seconds pass. The coroner has made his way into the van. He shuts the driver’s door. He steps over the gear shift and goes into the back of the van. He stares at the body bag. Unzipping it carefully, he examines the body. It’s pale and pink. Large, yet insignificant in its current state.

  The coroner reaches into his jacket and pulls out a syringe and a small black rectangular device. He places the device down on the floor. He takes the cap off the syringe and presses down on the plunger like they do on E.R.

  He puts his middle finger on the pale torso in the body bag. He taps it twice, and with his right hand, he plunges the syringe down toward the spot he had his finger on. He hears a crack, and then the sound of air. He quickly presses down on the plunger completely. He watches the liquid rush out of the vial into the corpse. He takes the needle out and puts his head to the cadaver’s chest.

  “Nothing. Goddamn it!” he curses, reaching for the rectangular device.

  He doesn’t waste any time. He places the device in the same spot he stuck the needle in. Without hesitation, he presses down on a button on the right side of the device. 50,000 volts of electricity shoot through the cadaver. Suddenly, its eyes open, and the coroner breathes a sigh of relief.

  “Thank the heavens,” he says, removing the device from the man’s chest. “I thought I’d lost you. They were taking their sweet time at the mall. Took some pictures of you. But luckily for us, it only took six minutes before they put you in the meat wagon.”

  The man sits up. He is startled, yet relieved.

  “I died?” he asks.

  “Yeah. But you’re back now. I told you not to fuck it up. I said nice and slow. This is what happens when you fuck things up! You need to be more precise in your execution, Eli!”

  The Machete Man looks at his partner and smiles. His ribs hurt, but it isn’t as bad as the last time. The last time hurt real bad. Punctures to the neck are hard to heal.

  “Don’t worry about it. There’s always next Christmas,” the Machete Man says, grinning ear to ear.

  A message from the author:

  Thanks for reading through this box set that contains most of my work! 2014 was a great year for me, and I have my readers to thank, so here I am thanking you personally! Please feel free to leave a review regarding your opinions on this box set. I look forward to releasing many more books for you to read! Thanks for your continued support!

  Luis